


Love Bugged

by Harmonic_Wisp



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Can I make this any more domestic?, F/F, Possibly. - Freeform, Veela are magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23422387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harmonic_Wisp/pseuds/Harmonic_Wisp
Summary: Hermione remembers an old lesson on magic. Fleur, on the other hand, forgets something incredibly important...
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Comments: 52
Kudos: 518





	Love Bugged

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ayexev](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayexev/gifts).



> JK Rowling owns her respective characters. I just like to take them out for various adventures from time to time.
> 
> Crossposted on Fanfiction.net under the same name.
> 
> « _Assume that all dialogue using italics and les guillemets is in french._ »  
> "Normal speech dialogue."  
>  _'Single apostrophes and italicized are thoughts.'_
> 
> _For what little French I _do_ use, please forgive me for botching the language. Translations will be in the end notes._

Hermione Granger was a meticulous individual. Her mind worked on the basis of logic and order, and that mindset showed in nearly everything she did. Her bookshelves were alphabetized and sorted by topic and relevancy. Her notes for work were color coded and even her spice rack was sorted according to frequency of use. And as a workaholic, her work desk at home was set up in such a way that it could be considered a capstone in systematic efficiency. While some would say that the witch was inflexible in her mindset, for Hermione it was simply how she did things. There were few exceptions in life that could convince her to abandon her habit for structure.

_« Mon amour, my stomach hurts. Make it stop! »_

One of those exceptions happened to be an irritable Fleur Delacour with a stomach ache. The normally put together adult whined and curled her lithe body around her longtime girlfriend and further trapped the English witch on their bed. Hermione hummed a noncommittal reply to the needy blonde as her quill continued its fervid pace across the parchment that she had managed to keep balanced on a large book. It wasn’t an ideal place to plan a new bill for the Wizengamot, but Fleur had given her the most pathetic look that morning and the next thing Hermione knew she had sent an owl to her boss at the ministry with a note that said she would work from home today. 

Fleur on the other hand was on her third sick day this week. The part-Veela had experienced random bouts of fatigue while at work, with one or two moments of vertigo as well. While normally that wouldn’t be enough cause to call in sick, the nausea that accompanied those episodes made the woman beyond miserable. Truth be told, Hermione had voiced her worries that maybe she should take her girlfriend to a healer to get checked out. Fleur in turn had insisted that it was probably just an extra vicious menstrual cycle. The former Gryffindor had some doubts about that. The blonde had some spotted bleeding and cramps the other day, but hadn’t bled since. 

_« Hermione? Are you listening to me? »_ The woman in question jumped a little when the sharp jab of a well manicured finger drilled into her side. Hermione grimaced and realized she had missed whatever her girlfriend had just said. 

“Ah, sorry Fleur. I got lost in my own thoughts. What were you saying?” Fleur pouted from her curled position around the brunette.

“I said that my stomach was being disagreeable again.” As if on cue, a loud gurgled sound emanated from her stomach. The blonde groaned in embarrassment as she buried her face in Hermione’s thigh. A mumbled _« please do something about this »_ was heard as she attempted to asphyxiate herself against her girlfriend’s thighs. It was likely an attempt to hide the flush that accompanied the nearly imperceptible sound of _toots_ that escaped her in spite of her fierce efforts otherwise. If anyone other than the british witch had witnessed the normally proud part-Veela pass gas, they would have been immediately obliviated and dropped in a ditch somewhere unpleasant. 

Hermione was the sole witness to the adorable sounds that had escaped the lithe beauty curled around her, thus any necessary memory manipulation was swiftly avoided. She shook her head at the comical antics and glanced at the wall clock. 

“Well how about this? It’s nearly noon, so I’ll go get the kettle going and maybe a light lunch for us both.” Fleur grumbled her protests as she clearly hadn’t wanted her intended cuddle pillow to go anywhere. Hermione simply tutted back and disentangled herself from clingy limbs. “Don’t be that way, you and I both know that we can’t stay in bed forever. And I promise to get you something herbal to drink for that stomach. Hopefully it will help.”

The pragmatic one of the two chuckled at the whimpered sounds of betrayal from the over dramatic individual left on the bed as she made her way from the bedroom to the cozy kitchen on the other side of their shared apartment. It was with practiced ease that the kettle was filled and placed on the burner the muggle way before the brunette made her way to their pantry and took stock of what they had so she could string together something that they could both stomach. Maybe some cucumber sandwiches and a basic chicken soup? Hermione thought back to the gassy episode back in the bedroom. It wasn’t the first time that had happened in the last few days.

Contrary to what Fleur wanted the world to think, Hermione was well aware that the woman was capable of basic bodily functions no matter how gross the blonde thought they were. It was why the French witch was dead set against any food that would upset her stomach and possibly lead to any public displays of farting. The odd thing was that neither of the two women ate anything out of the ordinary recently, yet the gas continued to be an issue. 

What was even more worrying was the nausea and vomiting. When Hermione had found her girlfriend bent over the toilet the first time today, she had nearly apparated them both to St. Mungo’s in her panic. Surely the blonde could see that something more serious was wrong with her? It was only Fleur’s tetchy mood that stayed the younger witch’s hand. She had been a bit moody all week, but the part-Veela had been especially annoyed after an early morning attempt at sex turned sour because they discovered that her breasts were unusually more tender than normal. 

None of it made sense and the poor sequence of events had done nothing good for either of their stress levels. 

_‘Honestly, it’s like she was pregnant or something.’_ Hermione shook her head at the odd thought as she fished out the cucumbers from the crisper and began to prep them. It was a ridiculous notion to begin with. It was quite obvious that neither of them were biologically equipped to even begin that process. The curly haired genius waited for the cold hard hammer of logic and reason to decimate the idea in her mental space.

Except instead her prodigious mind inundated her with a list of all of Fleur’s symptoms over the last week.

Gas. Slight bleeding and cramps. Mood swings. Tender Breasts. Fatigue.

_Morning sickness._

A rudimentary list of common symptoms a woman may have in the first few weeks of her pregnancy. 

Hermione blinked away the black spots that appeared over her eyes as she realized that she had forgotten to breathe for a few moments. Unsteady hands had put the knife down somewhere on the counter, the cucumbers momentarily forgotten as she focused on her breath control. 

_In. Out. In. Out._

She repeated the steps in her head as she put them into practice until the light headedness was chased away by the oxygen in her lungs. She didn’t know why she was so stuck on this. The idea was as ludicrous as it was impossible.

Determined to work passed the notion before it distracted her again, Hermione grabbed her wand and pointed it at one of the taller shelves that held all the tea bags with the intention to _accio_ the package that she wanted. Except that she didn’t summon the little green and white packets, instead she fixated on the sight of her wand. Vinewood, ten and three-quarters inches in length, and a dragon’s heartstring embedded within. It was a familiar sight and shouldn’t have provoked the introspection that it did. A memory nearly a decade in age was pulled to the forefront of her mind. Her parents were beside their guide, Professor McGonnagall, as a much younger Hermione held the wand that finally chose her for the first time in Ollivander’s shop. The fae-like gentleman behind the counter smiled at the child before him as he recognized the look of enraptured awe on her face. 

_“You will find that in your studies, Miss Granger, that Magic can certainly make much of the impossible, possible.”_

The memory faded from focus, but the adrenaline it brought on only continued to spike. A brisk walk towards the bedroom allowed the woman to peek in on the sole occupant within, only to find that the blonde had drifted to sleep during her absence. Rather than wake the tired woman and solicit answers to her questions like she originally had planned, Hermione ventured back to the other side of the apartment but instead veered into the living room. The fireplace stood prominently at the center of the back wall, and before she knew it the fire was lit with a flash of her wand and a handful of floo powder was immediately thrown into the flames. With practiced ease she got on her knees, stuck her head into the green fire and yelled out, “ _Maison de Delacour!”_

There was a split second of disorientation before a well furnished sitting room came into view, although a quick glance around confirmed that no one was within the immediate vicinity. 

“Hello? Apolline? Are you home?!” For a brief moment, Hermione feared that the house was vacant but the rhythmic sound of heels against hardwood to her right allayed her fears. 

“Hermione? I apologize, I was in the garden with a book. Thank goodness we have the wards rigged to alert for floo calls regardless of where we are in the house or I might’ve missed you.” Fleur’s mother smiled at the brilliant little lioness that her daughter had chosen; a short stool was conjured into existence to sit on so that the other woman wouldn’t have to crane so much as they talked. “Now what can I help with?”

Inwardly, Hermione was relieved that the French woman had opted to keep the conversation in English. While they were both known to flip flop between languages since they were both fluent in both their native tongues, the former Gryffindor was far too addled with panic to properly lend a voice to the questions that raced through her head. She didn’t think she was capable of doing so in French right at that moment. 

“Ah, I’m sorry to interrupt. I just had a… question for you?” There was a twitch by her left eye, which was the only indicator of her struggle for restraint right that moment. In the very likely chance that she was overthinking this, she didn’t want to overrun her girlfriend’s mother with ridiculous questions. _‘One, very carefully worded question. No more than that!’_

Due to the nature of fire calls and the unsteadiness of the spectral head in her fireplace, Apolline Delacour missed the normally noticeable twitch from the other woman. What she _didn’t_ miss was the oddness of Hermione's request. One question? Hermione Granger didn’t ever _just_ ask _one_ question. Oh well, she would find out in time.

“Of course! What can I help with?” 

“I know this may seem odd, but please bear with me. It wouldn’t happen to be possible for a Veela, even a part-Veela, to get pregnant by her _female_ partner… would it?”

As the words left her mouth, Hermione felt the mortification set in with every syllable. What was she doing?! It was one thing for her to contemplate this insanity by herself in the sanctity of her kitchen. It was another thing to air her ridiculous idea to her girlfriend’s mother! Before she could do anything to retract her embarrassing statement, she was cut off by a voice of mild outrage and a hint of disbelief...

“Wait, how do you know about that? Fleur knows she is only supposed to tell you of that detail _after_ you have both been married! I swear, that girl runs her mouth far too - oh dear, Hermione, are you alright? You’re a bit pale.” Which was an understatement, if there ever was one. If Hermione seemed “a bit pale” through the eerie green of the Floo connection, it meant she was probably as white as a sheet outside of it.

Unbeknownst to Apolline, Hermione didn’t hear the question. In fact, her mind had come to a halt almost immediately after the oblivious mother had inadvertently confirmed that she was right. The high pitched ringing sound that only she seemed to hear got louder and louder, it was to the point where she entirely missed the various queries aimed at her by her worried conversation partner. There was one last coherent thought that passed through her mind before her eyes rolled to the back of her head and everything went white.

_‘Oh sweet Circe, Fleur is pregnant.’_

-oOo-

It was the high pitched, uninterrupted whistle of the kettle that forced Fleur out of the peaceful doze she had momentarily slipped into. While she still felt like shit, the nausea dogged many of her waking hours had least abated for the moment. On the other hand, the tea pot’s continued screech had begun to grate on her nerves. She momentarily popped her head out from under the covers that she vaguely remembered going under prior to her nap and called out.

“‘Ermione! You left the kettle!” The French accent she had worked so hard to reign in had reared its head in her sleep addled state. It didn’t help that she had just yelled loud enough to throw her voice from one end of the apartment to the other. 

One minute. Then another. Then a third. Fleur slowly removed herself from the duvet that had shielded her from the mild chill in the room as a knot of worry took the place of the nausea that had become so familiar over the past few days. There was still no answer back and the kettle continued to whistle.

She exited their shared bedroom and peeked into both the attached bathroom and the one out in the hall. The study was empty and so was the guest bedroom. There was no one in the living room, only the various furniture and bookshelves scattered about the space. It was times like these that Fleur missed Crookshanks, but the old familiar had passed away late last year. 

The kitchen, the final room of the house that she had to check, was bereft of the person she expected to see. She shut the burner and the kettle was finally silenced of its off key song. A glance about the kitchen showed a cutting board with half of a cucumber already cut into identical thin slices, though the knife was haphazardly abandoned by the sink. Her heart began to beat against her rib cage with worry. 

“‘Ermione?! Où es-tu, mon amour?” Fleur walked back to the living room as she called out for her girlfriend. One look at the clock on the wall showed that she had only been asleep for maybe a quarter of an hour. Just where had Hermione gone? A knock on the door interrupted her internal freak out and she sighed in relief. Hermione must’ve just stepped out for the moment and had forgotten to turn off the stove in her haste. Fleur strode to the door and yanked it open, an admonishment on the tip of her tongue as justifiable retribution for the worry that had been induced.

The words died before they could leave her mouth as she found a messy mop of black hair and glasses instead of chestnut locks and chocolate eyes. 

“‘Arry? What are you doing here?” The question felt like chalk in her mouth. What she really wanted to ask was where in the hell her girlfriend was. 

“Oh, sorry to bother you guys. A bit of official Auror business.” He gestured to the uniform he had on. “Just had to check something, though I figured I’d do the checking since I know that you two prefer your privacy.” 

“Auror business?”

“Yeah, we got a report of an unsanctioned international floo trip between this location and somewhere in France. I figured it was just another false positive, it tends to happen sometimes- Hey, Fleur!” Harry called out to the suddenly distraught blonde, but she had already turned and had run back into the living room. The wizard chased after her, only to witness the normally stoic individual in the midst of a frantic investigation of their fireplace. “Fleur, what’s going on? Is everything alright? And where’s Hermione? I know she stayed home today.”

“That’s what _I’m_ trying to figure out.”

Fleur had been so out of sorts earlier that she had only done a cursory glance over the room. Now that she was fully aware, she raked her eyes over every detail of the area in front of her like it was a heavily warded Albanian tomb that she had to break into. The first thing she spotted was the little pot that held the floo powder, the lid had been carelessly tossed aside and hadn’t been put back. The second detail that had somehow escaped her initial perusal were the bits of charcoal that remained in the ashes, their edges bore the barest tint of a red glow that hinted at their previous wild blaze. International floo travel had a tendency to snuff out even the largest of fires due to the sheer magical force needed to make the long distance jump. 

Before she could process it, her knees had hit the ground. Only a small part of her acknowledged the bespectacled young man that had rushed to her side; his voice a cacophony of panic and worry but she was unable to process the words in her shock. 

“I… I don’t understand. Why would she go to France?” Fleur’s question came out in the barest of breaths as her eyes continued to stare at what was apparently the last known location of Hermione Granger. It was the new lower angle that let her see the hint of the familiar handle almost entirely hidden underneath the black metal basket that held the spare firewood. The witch shoved her hand under the container and came out with the Hawthorne wand that she knew for a _fact_ hadn’t left its owner’s side since the brunette got it back at the end of the war. 

Before Harry could finally get through to Fleur and just before the urge to hyperventilate took over, the fireplace burst to life in a roar of green flames. Apolline Delacour’s floating head materialized within the grate. The relief on the elder of the two Delacours was palpable as she spotted her daughter. 

_« Oh thank goodness! Fleur, you need to return home immediately! »_ Though she spoke French, even Harry could understand the urgency that echoed from the statement.

_« To France? Maman, what is going on? Where’s Hermione, is she there? »_

“Um, I’m sorry to interrupt, but if you could both please switch to English? I’m still technically on official Auror business and I _do_ still need to figure out just what has happened so I can file a report.” Both women blinked in surprise as they both turned to the bespectacled Auror; one had only just realized he was there whilst the other had forgotten his presence entirely. “Now what’s this about Hermione?”

“Oh, erm, yes. Hermione is here, though the poor dear had run straight to the family library shortly after we had _enervated_ her.” 

“ _‘Enervate’-_ Maman, what exactly happened?!” 

“Calm yourself, foolish child. Hermione had floo called me earlier with a question, and then had a fainting spell shortly after. Her unconscious body fell entirely through the connection at that point. I had just finished talking to the Aurors on this side about the issue and they agreed that it was an accident and that a small fine would be enough punishment so long as it didn’t happen again.”

It was at this point that the look of worry that had adorned Apolline’s face swiftly shifted to one of maternal scrutiny. Harry had seen that look many times on Molly Weasley’s face whenever she (rightfully) picked up on Fred and George’s antics. To see it directed at Fleur of all people unnerved him even though he could not claim to know the woman as well as Hermione.

“Now enough idle chit chat, you are to return home as soon as you are able! I would suggest taking _le tunnel sous la manche_. From my understanding it’s much less disorienting than those muggle aeroplanes.”

“Wait, why do you want me to take a train? I know they said not to do another unsanctioned trip, but there’s nothing stopping me from getting approval to do so officially!”

“Absolutely not! Long distance floo travel is simply too dangerous for the baby!” 

Fleur opened her mouth to retort but found herself struck speechless. Baby? What baby? Thankfully Harry was still there to help her verbalize her freak out.

“I’m sorry, did you just say _‘baby?’_ As in Fleur is having a baby? By whom?!” Harry was torn between shock and accusation as he leveled a look at the flabbergasted blonde next to him. Anyone who really knew the couple knew that Fleur was as possessive as she was loyal to the younger witch. The idea that she might have cheated on his pseudo-sister was so unthinkable that any attempt at fury on his part only made Harry further uncomfortable. Apolline merely rolled her eyes.

“By Hermione, of course! My poor daughter-in-law is in a panic right now because a certain _someone_ clearly did not take her contraceptive potions on time!” 

That aforementioned someone winced as she remembered the day several weeks ago where the two had celebrated the fact that the blonde had officially moved in. They had vigorously ‘celebrated’ for nearly two straight days, and it was only several hours later that Fleur had realized she had missed her daily contraceptive potion. She had dismissed the incident at the time since the chance of conception was so low without the proper rituals to enhance it that they were more likely to win one of those muggle lotteries than to actually conceive a child.

She should probably buy a scratch off after this.

“It was honestly _one_ _time_ , the chances were so slim that- wait, did you just say _daughter-in-law?_ ”

Apolline sniffed at her daughter. “Well of course. No grandchild of mine is getting born out of wedlock! Fleur Isabelle Delacour, you will do the right thing and make an honest witch of Hermione or so help me…”

“Wait,” The lone wizard scratched the back of his head in confusion. “I thought _Fleur_ was the one up the duff?”

Both women stared at Harry with identical looks of judgement for the crude statement.

“Er… Sorry. I mean, isn’t Fleur the pregnant one? Why does _she_ have to make Hermione an honest witch in this case?”

“Because _she_ is the one who didn’t take my warnings seriously and allowed herself to get pregnant! Poor Hermione didn’t know it was possible in the first place! Now be a dear, Monsieur Potter and escort my daughter across the channel so I can assuage her soon to be wife’s worries. The dear is in a frenzy in our library looking up books on pregnancies and child rearing.”

“She started a list, didn't she.” It was less of a question and more of a statement. In the face of such life changing news, Fleur clung to the first familiar stretch of land she could see. Even if that thing happened to be her girlfriend’s nearly obsessive need for order and logic. 

Apolline deadpanned. 

“She’s on her third.”

**Author's Note:**

>  _“‘Ermione?! Où es-tu, mon amour?”_ \- "Hermione? Where are you, my love?" 
> 
> " _le tunnel sous la manche_ " - Literally "the tunnel under the mache," it refers to what most English speakers know as "The Chunnel" which is a railway between England and France. 
> 
> Honestly, a part of me thinks I should be using « Guillemets » when writing French, but I'm still trying to work out a system for representing foreign speech spoken. Eh, I'll figure it out eventually.
> 
> This prompt is courtesy of Ayexev. Here's hoping you see your family soon! 
> 
> Also a huge thank you to everyone at the Fleurmione discord. This is especially true for "the_glare_you_see" and "Midmoon Kitsune" - those two have yelled at me constantly so you can thank them for me cranking this out minutes before the end of March! 
> 
> I'll be truthful and say that while I may not always be happy with a piece, the main point is me getting into the habit of writing and posting regularly again. I also threw this at my beta like.. with only a few hours to work. So I may jump back in this and edit a few small details when she finally gets back to me. Sorry Faith!
> 
> Stay safe folks!


End file.
